


Mind Games

by smutduck (sharkduck)



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Exhibitionism, Fallen Hero spoilers, Other, Telepathic Sex, it's exhibitionism............. Sort Of, just some good old fashioned clonefuckin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 22:26:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17476085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkduck/pseuds/smutduck
Summary: It sets itself up like the beginning of a bad joke: two telepaths walk into a meeting room, one gets bored.





	Mind Games

You’re not sure when it started – a gentle brush up against your shields, a whisper in your mind – but it’s been bugging you for the past five minutes. You tend to keep one ear open, per se, in these kinds of meetings. Any stray thoughts are a blip on your radar that you latch onto, prying apart, probing. This, though – this, you’re pretty sure, is another telepath.

There is only one other telepath that you know of in this room. You know, because they’re – well, they’re you, for better or for worse. Older, maybe, but you’re almost carbon copies of one another. Which gets confusing, considering you’ve slept with them more than once – unfortunate when you realize that most of the people in here are convinced that you’re related somehow.

You grimace psychically, for lack of a better term, and you feel what amounts to an amused mental chuckle from their end of the table. You glance their way, finding them reclining in their chair, hands folded over their chest, and staring with professional detachment at one of the speaking dignitaries from San Francisco. Peons of a rival kingpin looking to make an alliance.

Hollow Ground. You can feel them batting playfully at your shields. Not prying them open, but asking to be let in. Not demanding.

Out of what you assume is boredom and curiosity, you lower your shield. Just a little bit. Enough that they fill the space like a rush of hot air, the mental imprint of warm hands and gun metal in your mind, a feeling familiar enough by now that it might as well be your own.

_The image of you, bent over the table, held down by a familiar palm at the nape of your neck and –_

You almost blush, but you’re very good at being stoic by this point. It’s not the first time Hollow Ground has teased you like this. You snatch the thought and squirrel it away for later, glancing down the table – their face is just as blank as yours probably is, but in your mind’s eye they leave the ghost of a feeling of a smirk. A battle between psychic minds. You broadcast a pout their way.

 _Oh, don’t be like that._ Their voice is a comforting brush against the side of your brain.

_This meeting is boring as sin – if you’re going to tease me, at least make it interesting._

They rise to that challenge, unfortunately.

They grip your mind with brutal, but warm force, challenging you to stay quiet and pleasantly blank faced while they play around in your head. Never going farther than surface deep, thank god – you both have seen enough tragedy to know not to go spelunking in that particular yawning chasm.

_A feeling of a hand wrapped around your throat, choking, pressed against the surface of the table. More hands prying your legs apart. A playful slap to the meat of your thigh that almost feels like a physical thing._

The arousal is real, but Hollow Ground amplifies it, making it almost unbearable. You force yourself to stay stone faced, the amount of concentration you need just to do that and scan for threats leaves you feeling overwhelmed. Much as you should beg them to stop, you don’t – in a sick way, you’re enjoying yourself. You wonder what you look like to the other delegates –

Your scalp burns like someone is yanking your hair. Turning your attention back to the presence in your head. Playfully reprimanding you for not paying attention to your “game.”

_Focus._

_Something – someone – entering you in one swift rock of the hips, pinning you to the tabletop by the throat as they pound you into the wood in full view of ten people –_

That last part sends you careening into something like aroused desperation. Good god, you need to get away from this room and get off – Hollow Ground’s apartment is in the penthouse upstairs, not that any of these people know that. You could retreat up there. Both of you are strong enough telepaths that if you wanted, you could continue your game, that you have most certainly lost by now, safely away from any prying eyes, where you weren’t distracted by redirecting their attentions away from your flushed face. With something like bemusement, they give you permission to go – leaving your mind with a feeling not unlike a friendly pat on the ass.

You wait until the next speaker is finished talking before you excuse yourself – partially because it’s polite, partially because you need a moment to get your arousal under control and figure out a way to leave without walking funny. Any thoughts towards you are deftly redirected back towards Hollow Ground or the next speaker, and you leave no imprints in their brains as you exit and make a mad dash toward the elevator and pray no one is there.

You can feel Hollow Ground’s smirk in your hindbrain the entire time.


End file.
